Why Can't Life Just be Easy?
by DStrides-JEggs
Summary: A story full of unlikely friends and even unlikelier adventures. That cliched highschool AU. I dunno. Just read it I guess.
1. Chapter 1

The thing about elementary school is that it's so easy to make friends. All you really have to do is ask someone to be your friend and it's like 'hell yeah, why not?' and then you're friends.

Boom. Simple.

The thing about high school is that it's not like that. At least, you don't think it is. It would probably be weird to walk up to a group of teenagers and ask 'hey, want to be my friend?'

Yeah, no. Not a very good plan.

Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you're not really the best at making friends. You're not very good at reading social cues in general, honestly.

And that is probably why you're standing in the doorway of your house like a petrified weasel instead of getting in your dad's car.

"Can't I just be homeschooled or something? I hear there's some pretty good online programs. Can't I just do that?" You call from the front door, and your dad gives you a bemused look.

"We've been over this, and unless you want to be given awry looks for being late on the first day of school, I suggest you get in the car."

You grumble and drag your feet all the way to the car door, which you open and reluctantly throw your stuff into the front seat before getting in yourself.

"I don't want to go to school. Who cares anyway? None of it is ever useful, despite what anyone says. It's stupid. I hate it." You say, shutting the door and leaning against the window.

"I know." He says simply, turning the key in the ignition. "But even though you might not use calculus or advanced chemistry in your everyday life, you certainly use social skills. And let's be honest-" He looks at you and smiles. "You could use some brushing up on those."

You laugh because it's true, but it doesn't do anything to ease the dread in your stomach.

"And look on the bright side - you only have four classes a day, which means significantly less homework and more time to do... Whatever it is you do in your freetime. Programming? I don't know." He says, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway. And as you start down the street of your neighborhood, you get an awful feeling.

You have a feeling it's going to be a looooong day.


	2. Chapter 2

Much to your chagrin, you get to school with five minutes to spare and nothing to do. You take out your class sheet or whatever hell the damn thing's called and look it over. First period is art, room 58. Not because you like art, but because it's easy _and_ a college requirement. You sigh and head into the campus, looking around at the miscellaneous throngs of people.

 _There's those goddamn preppy girls that everyone hates,_ you muse, _and the wierd devil worshippers or whatever that nobody wants to go around, and the skaters, and the jocks..._

You look over at the first small building, rooms 1-14 it looks like. In the opposite direction, there's another building with a few rooms on the front labeled in the forties. You head that way, figuring it'd be going up from there. And sure enough, on the backside, room 58. There are a few other people waiting outside of the door, and some of them look quite a bit older than you. You slip your class sheet back into your pocket and glance at your watch.

7:28.

 _You'll only have to stand there for two minutes, it'll be alright,_ you tell yourself, _two minutes. Great. Fine. Okay._

And you do it, you stand by the people and wait, glancing around at them with a mixture of intrigue and anxiety. There's a girl with a binder tucked under her arm who keeps looking around anxiously like a raptor's going to attack her or something. Her backpack is a pattern of dogs and cats, and you figure she must have lots of pets. There's a boy who's backpack is slung haphazardly over one shoulder, and he's bobbing his head like he's listening to music or something. Maybe he is.

You kind of hope you don't have to sit next to him.

But then, you kind of hope you don't have to sit next to anybody.

There's another girl who's doodling in a sketchbook already, who'd look quite at home in an art classroom. And, another boy who looks like he would do anything to not have to be going into that class.

The bell rings, but it's not really a bell. Just a loud, screeching noise from the loudspeaker. Moments later the door opens and you all slowly file in.

There are a bunch of tables with papers on them, and the papers have names at the top. You look around to find your name, thinking about how this is sort of like elementary school. Finding your nametag or whatever. You finally find yours and sit down, putting your backpack beside the leg of the table.

The paper is actually a calendar, and you assume you'll have to write down the daily assignments there. Which is kind of stupid, but you don't run the school.

Sure enough, at the table next to yours, that guy with the music sits down, immediately starting to tap his foot on the ground. You look up at the ceiling and sigh.

The girl with the animal backpack sits down at your table, looking around the room.

The boy who looked like the drop of a pin would push him to homicide sat on the opposite side of the room from you, and for that you were grateful.

You don't need that kind of bullshit.

Music man at the table next to you turns around in his chair, folding his arms on the back rest thing and really looking the part of a smug douchebag. Who the fuck wears sunglasses inside anyway?

He stares at you for like a minute. Which isn't a long time, but it's a long time to be staring at someone.

"Can I help you?" You say finally, raising an eyebrow and turning your hands palm up like 'what the hell?'

"Follow up question," he replies, tilting his head and shooting pistols at you. "Got an extra pencil?"

You nod.

"Can I borrow it?"

You sigh and dig a pencil out of your backpack, handing it to him.

"Damn, you're a bro. Thanks." He says, turning back around.

You shake your head and look up at the ceiling again.

The girl sitting next to you looks at the ceiling too. "Why do you keep looking up there? Is something there or have you just got rabies?" She says, looking over at you.

"Um... There isn't anything up there, I just-"

"So you're rabid?"

"No, I-"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." And she laughs. "I'm AC, by the way. That's not my real name, of course, that's just what everyone calls me."

"AC for Assinine Cat-lady." The guy sitting next to you says.

"Oh, shut your smug face befur I scratch it off myself." 'AC' says, somehow good-naturedly.

"You're not really helping your case there." And he turns to you. "I'm slim shady, by the way."

"I didn't know Eminem was still in high school." You muse.

"Okay, you got me. Would you believe Napoleon?"

"No."

"How about Juanita?"

"Probably not."

"What about Dave?"

You consider for a moment. "Yeah, I'd probably believe that one."

"Alright then, that'll be my name for today. Nice to meet you, Ray-Bans." He says, shaking your hand.

And you figure you've just gained a nickname.


	3. Chapter 3

The class was mostly uneventful. AC kept talking to you and you kept getting in trouble for it, but being the gentleman you are, you didn't rat her out of course.

"How chivalrous," Dave muses as you walk out of the classroom. "Did you come here on a white stallion, too? Where's your armor?"

"I didn't bring my horse today, but my armor is in my locker."

"Hyuk, hyuk. What classes d'you got next?"

You look at your paper. "Uh, algebra II, English honors, and chemistry. What're yours?"

"Damn, and here I was hoping that not all people with glasses were nerds." He says.

You roll your eyes.

"Anyway, I have algebra II, woodshop, and chemistry. So pretty much the same. I have English next term."

You feel slightly annoyed that you ended up in a whopping three of the same classes with this guy, but kind of intrigued that he's smart enough to be in algebra and chemistry. The words 'don't judge a book by it's cover' echo around in your head.

"Are you a freshman?" You ask, sort of out of the blue, but you don't really care.

"Yyyup."

 _Cool, okay. He's in the same boat as I am._

"Do you know anyone here?"

"If you don't count in this instance, then no. I don't think so."

 _Seriously? I thought he would have known some people. He seems like a popular kid or something._

"I don't either." You say, and then feel kind of stupid. He nods, blonde bangs bouncing in a way that kind of reminds you of a cartoon. You laugh. He gives you a questioning glance and then shakes his head.

"You know, hanging out with me won't exactly do a whole lot to improve your coolkid rep or whatever." You say, and he shrugs.

"Meh. I think you're probably a lot cooler than you give yourself credit for. You just gotta fake it 'til you make it, y'know."

"Is that what you do? Is this all just an elaborate facade to lure people into friendships with you?"

"Nah. I'm hella rad, tried and true. Do you even know where we're going?"

"Yeah, room 14. Riiiight... there." You say, nodding your head towards the door with a 14 in white paint.

"Sweet, this nerd comes with built in GPS. Really getting my money's worth."

You roll your eyes.

He opens the door for you, saying an 'entrez-vous, mon cherie' [after you, my dear.] as you walk in to yet another classroom.

"Mon cherie my ass." You mumble, sitting down and putting your bag on the floor. He sits next to you, pulling his phone out of his bag before setting it on the floor. He clicks it on, looks at the time, and then clicks it back off and puts it in his pocket.

"This fucking day." He says, shaking his head. "It needs to be over."

You take out your notebook and your algebra textbook, opening them both to the first page.

"I forgot my book." He says, and you grumble and put it in between you so he can see it as well. "Thanks dude."

He pulls out a red notebook with scrawling all over the front cover and opens it, revealing a pen drawing of what appears to be several black ravens (or maybe they're crows, you're not sure) flying around each other. There are thorny vines wrapping around the corners of the page and it's beautiful, yet haunting at the same time.

"Damn, you're hella good at drawing." You say, leaning closer to him (but still out of his personal space) to see the picture better.

He laughs uncomfortably. "Eh, I'm alright." He says with a shrug, making a couple of lines to define the wings of another raven.

You watch in awe for a moment but stop after a while because it's apparent he doesn't really want you to.

As the teacher drones on and on about parabolas and dimetrixes and focuses, Dave just keeps drawing, and you keep glancing over to see it.

You cringe when he calls for Dave to answer a question, because it was apparent he wasn't paying attention, and the teacher obviously noticed.

"Mr. Strider, I would appreciate it if you would qu-"

"X is 3. Y is -4." Dave says after squinting at the whiteboard for a moment, much to the teacher's chagrin.

You look at him in awe.

"How did you do that?" You hiss, looking at him and then the whiteboard in complete disbelief.

He shrugs. "It's not rocket science."

So he's kind of an asshole, but you have to admit:

He's pretty awesome, for a coolkid.


	4. STRIDER CHAPTER (Chapter 4)

**Just for further notice: 'Strider Chapters' are chapters in Dave's point of view. Kind of self-explanitory, I know, but better to be safe than sorry.**

 **Also, they'll most likely be shorter than the normal chapters.**

* * *

 _Why the fuck did you say my name's slim shady. What the hell. Who does that kind of bullshit. Juanita? Come the FUCK on. You can do better than this bullshit. God._

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you basically just regret everything you do right after you do it.

 _Mon cherie, oh my GOD. Where did that even come from, actually?_

You fuck up on one of the crows. You set your pen down on the table, glancing over at Mr. Ray-Bans, who is looking at your paper like a kid looks at a deer when they see one for the first time driving down the road or something.

Wide-eyed amazement, like he's looking at the Mona Lisa fresh from DaVinci's god-like hands.

You hate to admit it, but it feels pretty good.

It also feels pretty good to have someone think you're cool. Sure, he's the biggest geek on the planet (or he at least looks the part), and he probably thinks everyone's cool, but still. You don't know. It's weird.

You crack your knuckles and fold them in your lap, returning your attention to the dumbass teacher you just put the smack down on moments ago.

Everyone always thinks that you don't have an appreciation for intelligence, but it's the opposite actually. Intelligence is something you hold in the highest of respect, and although people may not see the importance of having a sharp mind and a quick wit, you do.

Because let's be honest, dumb people are a life suck.

 _Why is Ray-Bans still staring at me? That's hella creepy. Bro, I can see you. Yes you, with your lame ghostbusters bullshit tshirt._

And just like that, he looks back at his paper, and you feel a twinge of regret for thinking about it.

 _He'd probably have a nice silhouette,_ you reason, not really sure why. _The hair is kind of distinguishing if anything, if the glasses weren't visible._

"You know, the 'sly looking at people out of the corner of your eye' thing only works if you actually do it out of the corner of your eye." He whispers bemusedly, and your mind yells OH SHIT and scares the hell out of your heart.

You hope it doesn't show on your face and you just chuckle and turn back to the whiteboard.

 _Fuck fucking shit fuck what the hell oh god fuck haaahaha hoooly shit okay._

You have a feeling it's going to be a long time before you let yourself forget that one.


	5. Chapter 5

You sort of resent the way he's able to just let things roll off of him.

Maybe it's envy. You don't really know.

"Are you going to finish that picture?" You ask quietly, gesturing to the weird ravens flying around the thorns. He shakes his head.

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's cool."

"Do you want it?"

" _What?_ "

"Would you like the picture?"

"No, I can't take it from you. It wouldn't be right." You say, shaking your head.

And yet, he rips it neatly out of his notebook and hands it to you. You sigh and take it, putting it on the table as you take your binder out of your backpack. You're about to slip it into the front cover when you give it back to him. He raises an eyebrow.

"At least sign it first." You insist.

He laughs and signs the corner of the page, but it's more like an elaborate scribble than a name. You then proceed in making it the front cover of your binder, displayed proudly for everyone to see.

You hear the door open and turn to face the noise. A blonde girl holding a small slip of paper walks over to the teacher and hands it to him, earning a disapproving look, before walking to the table you're at and sitting down. She puts her purse on the floor and her mathbook and notebook on the table.

She has short blonde hair kept back in a black headband, along with black lipstick and dark purple eyeshadow, which makes her seem somewhat menacing despite the good-natured smile on her face.

"Sorry to interrupt, but this appears to be the only table left with available seats." She says politely, folding her hands on the table.

You look at her in disbelief.

And then at Dave.

And then at her.

And then at Dave again.

"What?" They say in unison, which exponentially increases the irony of the situation.

You laugh, putting your hand on your face.

"Oh my God, you guys. You look _exactly_ alike." You say, leaning back in your chair. "I mean what the hell? Are you related or something? This is crazy!" You hiss, waving your hands for emphasis.

The girl looks at you skeptically.

"No, we are not related. And I know it is an opinion oriented observation, but I do not believe we look _anything_ alike." She says, narrowing her eyes at Dave.

"Yeah, I hate to agree, but... We don't really look alike at all." Dave says with a nod.

You shake your head bemusedly.

"Anyway... Since I am fated to sit with you two for the rest of this term, I might as well introduce myself. My name is Rose." She says, holding out her hand.

"Oh, and I'm-" You begin, before being interrupted by an obnoxious ass.

"Ray-Bans. And I'm Dave." He says, taking her hand and shaking it.

You grumble, shaking her hand as well.

"Pleasure to meet you. Dave. Ray-Bans." She says with a small smile.

"Same goes to you." You say. "And just for the record...?"

"Hm?"

"My name isn't Ray-Bans."

"But it's a hell of a nickname! Am I right?" Dave says, and you sigh.

"No, it really isn't. It's actually kind of stupid."

"Ow, damn, my pride. Stupid is a strong word."

"Oh, shut up."

"You shut up."

"You started it."

"Both of you, quit your bickering," Rose laughs, "You sound like an old married couple."

"Yes, and I told him that he can't order any more prune juice. And what does he go and do? He orders more prune juice. Like, what the hell. Who does that." Dave says, feigning anger and disbelief.

You laugh, and the knotted feeling in your stomach gradually ceases.

Maybe making friends isn't as hard as you thought it would be.

Maybe you've already made three.

* * *

 **Sorry for the short chapter, guys. I'll be sure to try and (at least) keep up the status quo the first chapter set in the future, but as of right now i'm a little bit pressed for time. Love you guys! -DStrides**


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